


Sweat

by supernaturallylost



Series: Mental Health [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Canon Compliant, Gen, Panic Attack, anxious Jo, set shortly after 2x06 No Exit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-15
Updated: 2015-03-15
Packaged: 2018-03-18 01:44:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3551417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supernaturallylost/pseuds/supernaturallylost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jo survived the encounter with H. H. Holmes in Philadelphia. Although she can go most days with no repercussions, there are still moments when (much to her humiliation) she falls into a state of panic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweat

She held her breath and blinked the sweat from her eyelashes. Only when her legs threatened to give out beneath her did she open her mouth to a quick rush of air. She breathed deeply, closed her eyes, focused on the drops of water running down her forehead.

The patrons of the bar outside continued to argue lightheartedly with each other, occasionally stopping to give toasts to unfaithful ex-wives or untrustworthy friends. Their laughs and shouts were muffled through the wall except in places where bullets had made holes or where the wallpaper and sheetrock had chipped. Ellen’s voice, always louder and more intimidating than any of the others, carried through the kitchen wall just clear enough to be understood.

“My daughter Jo went to Pennsylvania a couple weeks ago,” she said matter-of-factly. “Maybe you saw her while you were doing that job?”

Jo swallowed hard, wiping her burning forehead with the back of her hand. She grabbed her jacket from the sink beside her and walked quickly outside. The back door of the bar slammed shakily on its hinges. Jo threw her jacket to the ground, creating a small cloud of dust.

She looked every direction vaguely, stretching her shoulders back to give her lungs more room to expand. Her heart skipped faster, her lungs desperate to keep up.

“I can’t breathe,” she whispered to herself, forcing herself to concentrate on getting enough air.

In front of her flashed the image of a bearded man with wide white eyes. The image came and went like lightning, leaving her gasping for air while sweat ran into her eyes and mouth.

Again, the image came, this time showing the man leaning closer, staring insanely into her eyes.

She clutched her chest as her heartrate increased. She fell onto her knees. As the gravel dug through her jeans, she redirected her focus.

Sweat. It ran from her hairline, down the side of her face to her ears, and down her jawline. It ran from her eyebrows, down the bridge of her nose, and onto her upper lip. It soaked through her shirt, it adhered to her jeans, it welled between her fingers and toes.

She was too warm, too small, too closed in. He was too close, too soon, too real.

H. H. Holmes’ laugh echoed in her ears. His breath lingered under her nose. His hand left trails on her skin.

Suddenly, she felt fingers digging into her shoulder, pulling her backward.

She screamed.

It seemed to last forever. The hand gripped her tightly, moved her backward, forced her to turn. She closed her eyes and fought, punching the air with her arms, trying to spin her legs from underneath her, starting to bite at the nearest solid surface. As the gravel scraped her knees, she screamed for help. The sweat on her upper lip dropped onto her tongue, and she tasted the saltiness of terror as she cried for someone to save her.

“Jo, it’s okay!” Ellen gasped, pulling her daughter close to her chest. “It’s okay, baby!”

Jo screamed into her mother's shirt, rocking against her. The struggle gradually subsided and she leaned into her mother, grabbing her collar and crying into her shirt.

“Shh,” Ellen said softly, stroking Jo’s wet hair from her face. “It’s okay, baby.”

The two of them sat together on the dust behind the Roadhouse for several minutes before Jo’s grip on her mother finally loosened. She gasped for air as drops of tears and sweat fell to the dust.

“I’m sorry,” Jo whispered between breaths, still rocking back and forth.

“No,” Ellen answered firmly. “Don’t be like that.”

Jo sat back on her heels and blinked slowly, looking down in shame. Ellen frowned, grabbed the bar towel from her waist, and wiped the sweat from her face.

“It’s okay,” Ellen said. “You’re safe now.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Leave comments if you'd like to.


End file.
